Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
I glanced back across the large suite at the bed one last time to see Noa sleeping peacefully. The chances that this would be the last time I saw her were pretty damn high. I might not even see another sunset. But if this was it, then at least she knew how I felt. I’d said the words. I’d told her I loved her. I’d held her, fucked her, worshipped her, kissed her several times tonight. If she was safe, then I had my peace.
“Okay,” I replied, lowering my gun. “Let me grab my shirt and boots,” I told him.
He took the cigarette from his lips. “Not even gonna make this fun?” he asked with a smirk.
He fucking knew I wasn’t going to refuse to leave with him. Just like Blaise had known it when he sent him to get me.
“We leave, she’s unharmed—that’s all I care about,” I replied. Although leaving her here without an explanation or goodbye was fucking painful.
He cocked a brow. “All right, get your boots, lover boy, and let’s go.”
My gaze went back to her, and the only thing keeping me from going over there and looking at her face one more time was the psycho in the room. Walking over, I picked up my discarded shirt, socks, and boots, then slid my wallet back into my pocket, along with both cell phones. The one I thought I had taken the only tracker out of but apparently they’d had another one on me too and the one no one knew about.
Starting to turn and head toward the door, I saw the hotel stationery on the entry desk with a pen. I paused and looked from it to Gage. “Just let me write her a goodbye.”
He inhaled deeply, then let it out through his nose as he stared at me. “Tell me something,” he said, looking relaxed and at ease. “Would you burn down a house for her? Not give a fuck who was in it?”
I glanced at her again. “I’d burn down a goddamn county.” And I wished I’d burned down Ocala, but it was too late now.
His chuckle was low with an unhinged sound to it that reminded me of just who I was talking to. “Make it quick,” he said, then took another pull from the cigarette and leaned his shoulder against the wall, watching me.
Picking up the pen, I knew he’d read whatever I wrote. He could see it from where he stood. I couldn’t tell her why or where I was headed. But if these were my last words to her, I wanted them to count.
Forever has no time frame. You own my soul in this life and the ones to come.
—Ransom
When I laid the pen down, breathing became hard. Inhaling only made the agony in my chest more unbearable.
“Well, aren’t you a fucking poet?” Gage said with amusement.
And aren’t you a fucking psychopath?
Twenty-Three
Ransom
Opening my one good eye, I winced from the pounding in my head. It took me a moment to remember what had happened, but it came back the moment I took in my surroundings. I was underground, except not in Madison. I was in Ocala. The first underground facilities of the family. The caves built by Jediah Hughes, the founder of the Southern Mafia, and Charles Shephard, his best friend, almost one hundred twenty years ago.
Fucking Gage had brought me down here, tied me up, and then slammed his fist into my temple. I didn’t know how long ago that had been, but from the numbness in my extended arms, I was guessing at least four hours. Maybe five. I scanned the room to find no one. They’d left me alone down here. I had that to be grateful for.
I’d imagined my death to be a swift thing. A bullet between the eyes. That was Blaise’s typical way of taking out someone he didn’t feel he needed to torture for information first or retaliation. I’d disobeyed an order. That might mean death, but torture? It was a little extreme.
My thoughts drifted to the one place that I always escaped to when shit was bad. Noa. Closing my good eye that hadn’t been affected by the hit I’d taken from Gage, I let her smile and the sound of her laugh replay in my memory. Last night had been perfect, and if I had known this would be the outcome, I’d still have fucking done it. Every second I’d take with me to the grave. Hopefully, the hell thing was bullshit. I was banking on the reincarnation theory. That my soul would have another life, not end up burning in eternal damnation—or whatever it was that the Christians put on those billboards.
The echo of footsteps had me snapping my eye open again, and I watched the door, waiting to see who was coming for me. I knew the shit that was done down here. Mentally preparing myself for it was easier than I would have thought. If they were going to make me live without Noa in this life, then what the fuck was it worth? They’d already done their worst, taking her from me.